


Movements

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Begging, Consensual Kink, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hannibal is a good boyfriend, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence, Violent Sex, very literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Will needs a very specific kind of pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Movements

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is an entirely consensual fic, but the roleplay here could arguably be considered Rape Play, so take notice of that.

Hannibal moved like a bullet, so sure and certain, an existence bound by cast-iron conviction and wholeness, tearing into Will like a projectile through bone and brain. Hannibal’s hands, lazy and gentle down Will’s abdomen, trailed semen and moisture in their wake like the cerebral fluid after the gunshot.

Where Will was afraid, Hannibal was not. He didn’t have to ask.

Not when Hannibal knew.

Will’s knees were cramping, legs clutched around Hannibal’s waist, his fingers clenched so tightly in the sheets that his knuckles rubbed and strained like moaning metal wires- his head was thrown back, neck aching, mouth open in an eternal scream no one would ever hear except them both. There, in that bed, they were alone.

Will’s orgasm punched through him like an explosion, not gentle like it had been in the past- it was a shockwave, a reverberation that had him jerking and convulsing, spine lifting off and touching against the damp sheets again and again, bucking and lurching. He unfurled, for a moment, in a fierce drive - then, slowly, he receded and deflated. His head fell sidewards, breath pushed from his lips without his permission. His consciousness took on the consistency of water, and he was floating, the purely physical ecstasy undulating through him. His legs fell from Hannibal’s waist, uselessly flopping onto the bed.

“Will.”

His head was turned, fingers on his face. Hannibal’s face was blurred by eyelashes.

They’d discussed this.

“Are you…” Hannibal took a breath, his words the husks of canine growls. “…still certain?”

Just knowing what Hannibal was speaking of had a tired, echoed swell of arousal threading itself through a heartbeat, and pumping through Will’s veins in a solitary, exhausted echo of previous passion. The afterglow was illuminating everything.

“Will.”

“Mm.”

“Is that a yes?”

“ _Yes.”_

Will wasn’t present, not really- yet, he’d never been more alive in his life. When Hannibal began moving his hips again, Will’s arms lolling gently beside his motionless body, the world was reduced to the push and pull of Hannibal- like the waves, the movement of the ocean.

His eyes rolled back into his head, and the last thing he heard was a low growl before mind left him.

 

 

The sea’s movement had grown, become faster- the waves were sucked back into the sea, pushed violently back, surging forward. It was painful. Will became more and more awake, and the waves turned to objects, pushed towards him- _into him-_ and it _hurt-_

“Hannibal...!” He was realising himself, emerging from his dream, his hallucination, his brief absence from consciousness. The sea, the smell of salt, faded- he was lying on a bed, suddenly, and the reality of the situation hit him hard. His hands tightened.

"Hannibal,"

There was no reply. The pace increased, and Will’s throat tightened, his stomach tightening and curling into itself like a living thing unto itself, a burning entity that yanked him from the inside, made his torso contract and twitch. The heat was alive, in him, in his spine, in his pelvis-

“Don’t fight me, William.” The growl, the mongrel snarl, had Will gasping and rutting uselessly.

“St- Stop-”

“No.”

It felt so good to beg. He’d asked Hannibal for this- a shy smile on his face, pink cheeks, eyes downcast- and Hannibal had said yes in the most eloquent and arousing way possible.

_Make it hurt_

“Stop!” There was no power in his voice. No command. Just a plea. His throat constricted with a sob, and he gagged with the intensity of it all, turning his face into his shoulder. “Please- stop, please-”

“Don’t fight me.”

“Please-” Will sobbed, every pore of his being so _thankful_ to Hannibal, so grateful for this cruelty.

“It will hurt if you struggle, darling.”

_Yes, yes, yes, please, God- destroy me, Hannibal-_

“Stop it, stop it!”

“No.”

_God, thank you_

The hands on his hips moved, yanked him upwards- and a scream was propelled from them, their voices mixing and colliding, confusion colouring the hot air as Will was run through.

“No more, no- m- n-”

Every time he tried to speak, he would be hit harder, fucked harder. He would try again, breathless, unable to pause and refill his lungs, every word more wheezed than the last.

“Hann- Hannibal, pleas-” He was crying. It was so good.

“Please? Please _what,_ William?”

“You’re… hurting m-”

The hands moved, tightened- and the world spun, turned so quickly Will didn’t know he had moved until his face was buried in a pillow and he was at the mercy of something so violent he couldn’t believe it existed.

The world was collapsing.

“You’re hurting me!”

Hannibal’s fingers were in his hair.

“I will love you mercilessly, William.” The whisper was accompanied by warm breath on Will’s neck, a swipe of a tongue like a stroking flame, a breathed snarl of affection. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Y- Yes… Hannibal, please-”

_Make it real_

“Please what?”

“Make… me realise what’s… _real,_ please, _please-”_

“Tell me.” Hannibal whispered. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y- You, Hannibal-”

The fingers in Will’s curled hair tightened, constricted, and he cried out, neck arching in a perfect picture of vulnerability and sexuality.

_“Say it.”_

“I’m- I’m yours!”

“Yes… William.” They flying through the air, grounded by touch and exquisite pain. Hannibal’s mouth sucked, bit, opened in a gasp. “My _beautiful_ William.”

Then they were gone.

 

***

 

Will woke up slowly.

He ached.

He whined, going rigid and stiff as he emerged from unconsciousness and into pain- but there was a body next to him, lips against his cheek, hands massaging his body softly.

“I’ve made breakfast for you,” Hannibal murmured, “And cancelled all your appointments.”

Will turned his face into Hannibal’s chest. “How’d you manage that?” he mumbled.

“I am your psychiatrist, William,” a smirk crept into Hannibal’s voice, “I have significant sway over what Jack Crawford will and will not allow you to endure.”

Will smiled against his skin. He relaxed, body still sore, but no longer frightening.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Hannibal kissed him. “For you, anything.”


End file.
